Although Springer paused to change his flies as they moved along, trying in turn a “Morning Glory,” “Parmacheenee Belle,” “Silver Doctor” and “Brown Hackle,” it was not until he cast into the shadow of some overhanging bushes at the mouth of a brook that he had a strike. There, almost as soon as the hackle sailed out and dropped lightly upon the smooth surface of the water, there was a swirl, a snap at the line, a sharp bending of the delicate bamboo rod; and the clear, buzzing whirr of the multiple reel told that the fish was hooked and running with the fly. CHAPTER VI. A MORNING’S SPORT. Instantly both boys were athrob with excitement, although Springer, handling the rod and “playing” the fish, was somewhat less agitated than Grant, who immediately dropped his own tackle and seized the landing net, ready to render such assistance as he might. “He sure must be a dandy, Phil,” palpitated the Texan, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glowing. “Great Scott! see the rod bend. He hasn’t jumped yet. Don’t they jump?” “If it’s a sus-sus-salmon,” stuttered Phil, swiftly winding in as the fish ceased its spurt and yielded a little, “it will jump; and maybe it will if it’s a bub-bass. It may not break water at all if it’s a tut-trout.” Heedless of wet feet, Phil waded out until the water had reached to the knees of his canvas trousers, and there he stood, displaying no small amount of skill at the delightful task of baffling and tiring the fighting fish. Whenever the finny victim grew weary and permitted the line to slacken the angler reeled in, keeping it fairly taut, all the while prepared to let the reel run when it was necessary. In this manner, following the fish’s repeated breaks for liberty, the boy gradually brought it closer, admonishing his companion, who had likewise waded out and was waiting near at hand, to be ready to dip with the net when told to do so. It was indeed exciting work, which kept them keyed to the highest tension. Both knew what it was to experience the fierce thrills of a savage football clash and the triumphant elation of brilliant and successful work upon the baseball field, but in the sport of this midsummer morning hour there was something different, yet quite as intensely enjoyable and blood-stirring. The reason, perhaps, lay in the fact that both possessed the natural instincts of the sportsman who finds the highest pleasure in a fair and honorable battle where victory and defeat hang in the balance until the last moment. For until the net should lift the fish from its native element they could not know how securely or how lightly it was hooked, and it was possible that, through a sudden swirling struggle of the creature itself or an inopportune tautening of the line just when it turned desperately to run away, it might tear itself free and escape.